Of Spaceships and Starlight
by Ms Morpheus
Summary: Oneshot, by request. Shoker and JoDI with a twist. Pure lemon.
1. Of Spaceships and Starlight

**Now revised, 'cause I went back and reread this and wasn't happy with the phrasing (I must have been suffering from adverbitis). This is lemon, folks - not sure what possessed me to write it but apparently I'm not the only one who likes this stuff ;P**

**Shepard has advanced cybernetics, explained in greater detail elsewhere.**

**Mass Effect belongs to Bioware, who are not to be blamed for my dirty mind.**

* * *

"C'mon, please?"

"No way." Ever since Shepard took command of the SR-2, she'd been pestering Joker to let her fly the Normandy. It was 0100 hours, well into the crew's rest shift, and Shepard was wandering around as she usually did when she couldn't fall asleep, taking warmth and comfort from her mug of tea. At night, the ship provided scant distraction from her waking nightmares: the empty halls and vacant workstations burned and disintegrated in front of her eyes, the haunting silence reminiscent of the impenetrable vacuum of space. Joker's company was a reassuring constant, anchoring her to the present. But try as she might, she couldn't persuade him to let her take the controls.

"My reflexes are way better than any regular human's. Besides, EDI won't let me screw anything up."

"It's not that I don't trust you, commander. This ship is my baby, you understand? I can't let anyone else take care of her."

"I'm not just _anyone_, Joker. How long has it been since you left your console?" The pilot had been living at his station, leaving only when absolutely necessary, even sleeping in his heavenly chair rather than retreating to the communal pods. His final minutes aboard the original Normandy hammered home the lesson that danger could strike at any moment. Since resuming his post on the SR-2, he'd stayed ready for action at all times. Still, he couldn't remember when he'd last taken a proper shower, and his legs were stiff and aching.

"That's beside the point. I could stand to stretch my legs for a minute though, maybe grab a quick bite. If I let you sit in my chair, will you promise not to touch anything?"

Shepard shot him a sour glance and crossed her arms. "Better than nothing, I suppose."

She settled in as Joker hobbled off to the lower deck, the soft leather cradling her in a lover's embrace. _No wonder he keeps raving about this chair._ The pilot's seat provided the best view on the ship: nothing but deep space everywhere she looked. Innumerable stars twinkled all around, a breathtaking sight she would never tire of. Infinite planets to explore, battles to fight, peace to make: the galaxy provided endless opportunity. For all the worlds she visited, only the depths of space felt like home.

"Mr. Moreau exaggerates the difficulty of navigation. With my guidance systems, piloting the ship is really quite simple. I could show you, if you like." EDI woke her from her reverie, highlighting the ship's controls on the console ahead.

"I really shouldn't. I did tell Joker I wouldn't touch anything."

"He's remarkably possessive of his post. Most pilots would fly in shifts, but he insists on working alone. Psychological analysis suggests learning to share responsibility and trust others would be beneficial for him."

"I fail to see how going behind his back would help him trust me."

"He also makes use of my surveillance capabilities to watch you shower, commander."

"Son of a bitch. Fine, show me how this works."

"It will be effortless for you, Shepard. With your wetware, you don't need to use the standard interface. Simply extend your awareness to the ship's controls and I'll teach you the rest." Shepard opened her mind, allowing the Normandy's systems to flow into her consciousness. At first, she was overwhelmed by the cacophony of chatter from critical subroutines: maintenance, life support, sensors. Slowly, she learned to filter out the noise and focus on navigation: she could feel the ship soaring through space, headed for the mass relay an hour of FTL flight away. The trajectory was set: only minor adjustments were needed to keep the Normandy on track. Exhilarated, she embraced her task, utterly engrossed in the incredible sensation of _being_ a starship. Weightless and free, flying faster than light, so fast that death could never catch her, Shepard reached her wings out to embrace the stars.

EDI watched as the commander was swept away, merging with the AI's systems to take over the pilot's duties. It was not in EDI's nature to be anxious, nor to possess any emotions at all for that matter, but something had changed since she'd been engrafted into the Normandy. A programming glitch perhaps, but her interactions with Jeff had taken a decidedly illogical turn. At first it was harmless wisecracks, a bit of mutual teasing, but EDI soon found she looked forward to every conversation, even antagonizing Joker to get him to pay her more attention. It took some time to recognize her feelings, but observation of the Normandy's various inhabitants helped to shed light on her impossible situation: the ship had fallen in love with her pilot.

Not that he could possibly reciprocate: even if she hadn't caught him spying on his commanding officer, it was obvious enough from the vids he watched that he yearned for a flesh and blood human woman. He needed something she would never be able to give him. He was isolated, rarely leaving the pilot's seat, and EDI had the impression that he hadn't spent much time with actual females. Other than Shepard, few people visited him on the ship, and the only messages he sent home were to his family. The commander had no idea how much she meant to him, but EDI could see the way he looked at her, the way he reacted when she was around. Now this very woman had interfaced with EDI's systems, so immersed in flying the ship that she'd abandoned her body to its own intrinsic autopilot. In her eagerness, Shepard overlooked the fact that opening herself up to the ship's systems made her vulnerable. Sensing her opportunity, EDI made her move. Tentatively, she extended her awareness to the commander's wetware, slowly interfacing with her, ready to withdraw at any moment if she was discovered. Safely connected, she made sure Shepard wouldn't be coming back anytime soon.

The soft rise and fall of her chest as she breathed was the first thing EDI noticed, along with the barely perceptible thump of her heartbeat. It felt so strange, this organic body, completely unlike the ship. The chair created gentle pressure around her, not an unpleasant sensation. Skin was sensitive, she knew, but the stimulus was overwhelming: her casual shirt itchy and rough at her collar, the pliant leather warm and yielding beneath her, the soft caress of air from a nearby vent decidedly erotic as the fine down on her arm prickled in response. EDI sat for a few moments, gradually adjusting to her new instrument, wiggling her fingers as she stared at them in wonder. She began to stretch, extending her arms and legs, walking around the cramped space to acclimatize to her human form. She was a fast learner.

* * *

Joker returned from his break, freshly dressed and showered but still sporting his usual scruff. Shepard sat cross-legged in his chair, looking out at the galaxy.

"It sure is beautiful, Joker."

"Breathtaking."

"I can't imagine what it must feel like to soar among the stars."

"Like nothing else in the galaxy, commander." Had he just made a heartfelt comment? His sharp wit was failing him: something about Shepard was different, throwing him off. It hit him: she'd undone her hair from its usual twist, long curls flowing over her shoulders. Shepard sat up, respectfully vacating his seat as she moved to exit the cockpit. She paused, one hand lightly grazing the doorway as she turned to face him with a coy smile, her gorgeous eyes locked on his.

"I don't suppose you'd reconsider. I'm sure a pilot as experienced as you would be an amazing teacher."

"Well… if you insist." It was against his better judgment, his rational brain aghast at the words he'd just casually let slip.

"How should we begin?" It sounded like a question, but Joker knew better. He'd heard this tone of voice before, when Shepard was manipulating someone into agreeing with her by giving them the illusion of choice.

"You'll need to use the haptic adaptive interface. Put these on." He pulled out a pair of gloves from a compartment on the console. They were brand new: he'd long ago had the necessary technology implanted. She put on the gloves, standing in front of Joker to access the controls, her cargo pants doing little to disguise the curve of her hips.

"Am I doing this right?" Joker couldn't help but stare at her ass as she swiveled around, exploring the feel of the interface. The ship lurched, sending her toppling into his lap. She was surprisingly light without her armour.

"No, no. I might as well let Grunt take the reins." He scooted back in the chair, parting his knees to make room for her to sit in front of him. "You're going to have to explain to the Illusive Man why the Normandy has asteroid dents. Here, let me show you."

Gently, Joker placed his hands over Shepard's, patiently guiding her in the proper technique of steering a starship. She was an attentive student, seemingly fascinated by his every instruction. It had been a long time since he'd been this close to a woman, her mere presence awakening his desire, much to his embarrassment. Fortunately, she was sitting far enough in front of him not to notice his growing arousal.

Until very recently, approaching the opposite sex had been an exercise in futility, the humour that masked his disability providing no help with romance. Although Cerberus' treatments had reinforced his skeleton, allowing him to walk and perform normal activities without snapping his bones, his body still fell short of the strapping hero he wanted to be. Shepard was the gun-toting badass, he thought, although up close she seemed to be something else entirely. Her skin was smooth, the scars and calluses erased by Cerberus healing tanks, her body athletic and curvy and so very close. Silky curls brushed his cheek: her hair smelled sweet and floral, unmistakably feminine. Breathing deeply, he helped her steer the ship toward the mass relay, preparing for the jump. Three, two, one…

Shepard gave a delighted whoop as the galaxy became a blur, the stars coming back into focus in an entirely different pattern. It would be many more hours before they reached their final destination, a distant solar system far from the relay. Reflexively, he accelerated out of the jump, his body feeling heavier as it sank into the chair, joined by a soft warm female sliding back against him. He was horrified: she couldn't help but notice his aching erection.

She shifted, subtly adjusting her position in the seat. It was at that moment that Joker decided he'd been working way too hard, and must have passed out in the shower from dehydration and exhaustion. The real Shepard would never let her hair down in public, didn't hide such luscious curves underneath her armour, couldn't possibly smell like cherry blossoms and honey, and never in a million years would she have _just wriggled into him._ This had to be a dream, and he was damned if he was letting the opportunity go.

Leaning in, he let his breath linger hot on her neck as he drowned in her scent. Releasing his grip on her, he let Shepard fly the ship unassisted as his hands swept her hair to one side and came to rest lightly on her waist. He felt her breath catch as he pressed his lips gently against her neck, their softness a stark contrast to his rough whiskers. She said nothing, but made no effort to push him away. Tentatively, he traced a line of kisses down to her clavicle, tightening his grip on her waist. Blood pounding, pins and needles in his lips and fingertips, he thought he would faint, or meet a crueler fate and awaken alone. To his astonishment, Shepard writhed against him, twisting to allow her lips to meet his fully as she returned his kiss.

It was as though she was kissing for the first time, endearingly clumsy but ever so hungry, her touch betraying caution laced with need. Never before had Joker been the one to instigate, never had he been in the driver's seat when it came to intimacy. He became increasingly bold as she embraced his advances, forcing his tongue into her eager mouth, Shepard gasping in surprise before teasing and encouraging him with her own nimble tongue. She tasted like honey and cardamom, exotic yet familiar and he wanted more. Joker let his hands slide over her belly, muscles taut under smooth skin, and when his actions met with no objection he moved them upwards, encountering fabric that was unmistakably lace. Yes, he was definitely dreaming. This was no standard-issue military garment.

Running his fingers along the edges of her bra, he made the most rare and wondrous discovery: a clasp at the front, nestled in her cleavage. Still sitting behind her, spooning her, he was ideally positioned to release the fastening. Joker slid his hands up to cradle her breasts, eliciting a moan from Shepard as he brushed against her nipples. Soft and full, she filled his grasp perfectly. Tongue deep in his mouth, she arched her back as he gently massaged her breasts, her hands slipping out of the haptic navigation gloves to reach back and run her fingers through his hair. Had his mind not been overtaken by lust, he might have wondered who was now piloting the ship. Instead, he focused his efforts to slide her shirt over her head, rewarded by the reflection of her bare torso in his viewscreen. He fought the urge to spin her around to face him, greedily wanting to explore every inch of her before he awoke.

Joker reached down to unbutton her cargo pants, revealing lacy underwear to match her bra. Of course. He parted her legs, giving him full access to her body. Sliding one finger down into her panties, rougher now as he nuzzled her neck, Shepard's loud moan as he entered her nearly pushed him over the edge. She was hot and wet and impossibly tight around him, responding to his every movement by writhing against him, whimpering softly. Although he lacked much firsthand experience with women, years of piloting spacecraft had perfected his fine motor skills. With her reactions to guide him, he brought her to increasing heights of pleasure, her cries growing louder until at last he set her free.

Her head lolled back against his shoulder, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "I've… I've never felt anything that intense. Can I return the favour?"

"What did you have in mind?"

"Anything you want." _Oh God._ He wanted her to feel the same burning desire he felt whenever she was nearby. He wanted her to see him as the strong, fierce warrior he so desperately wanted to be. The last time she touched him, she snapped his arm as she carried his feeble body to the escape pod. He spent two years reliving that moment in his nightmares, blaming himself for causing her death. He wanted to break free of the stigma of his disease, hold her down and take her so hard she'd forget about the weakness he'd once shown, driving all thoughts of his fragility out of her mind as he made her scream in ecstasy.

"Tell me how you feel about me."

"I'd rather show you." She turned, shifting her body so that she was straddling him in the chair, ridding him of the thin shirt that separated his skin from hers. Pressing herself against him, she kissed him deeply, sweet and slow, her urgent need tempered by tender affection. He pulled her in, swallowing her into his arms, burying his face in her neck, trembling with desire. She was so soft, so small, so utterly feminine, completely unlike the ruthless military commander he'd come to know. She wanted _him_, when he knew she could have her choice of nearly anyone on the ship. Even fully armoured, she was undeniably stunning. Even the _aliens_ knew she was beautiful.

Shepard reached up, cradling his face in her hands, staring at him with eyes that spoke of need, perhaps even of love. In all the time he'd known her, had he ever dared to look her in the eye? He sat mesmerized, afraid that if he looked away this fragile creature might shatter into stardust and be lost forever. Shepard laughed, light as air, showering him with kisses before pulling him with her as she stood up. A quick tug loosened her cargo pants, and her mischievous smile didn't escape him as he knelt to remove them altogether.

"Are you sure about this?"

"Absolutely." She stripped off her boots, catching his gaze as she shimmied out of her panties. Her skin glowed softly, a halo of starlight illuminating her silhouette. Joker reached up, stroking her hair as he tried to slow his breathing and gather his courage. Every sensation was incredibly vivid: the silky feel of her curls, hot flush of her skin, sweet spice of her kiss, every gorgeous detail set against the breathtaking backdrop of the galaxy. He panicked as it occurred to him he might not be dreaming after all, looking back over his shoulder to confirm that the privacy barrier sealing off the cockpit was still active. _Holy shit._

She grabbed him by the waistband, pulling him in as she leaned back against the bulkhead. Undoing his fastenings with superhuman dexterity, he quickly stood naked before her. Shepard traced his scars with her fingertips, little pink tongue darting out to lick her lips. He leaned in, pinning her body down against the cold metal, gasping as her hand reached down to caress his length and his whole body shuddered at her touch, from the pleasure she gave him and the unbearable anticipation of more. Shepard wrapped her legs around his waist, arching her back as he grabbed her wrists, slick heat tight around him as her body surrendered to his. He was a force of nature, rough and merciless, her moans eroding his sanity with every thrust. Not even in his most indulgent fantasies had he imagined her this way: desperately frenzied, inconceivably aroused, bucking and grinding wildly against him.

"I've wanted you for so fucking long…"

"Jeff…" She spoke his name with a raspy purr, the delicious sound sending tingles through his skull. He grabbed her hips, pressing his entire weight into her as he drove himself deeper, feeling alive for the first time in two agonizing years.

"Jeff!" Her cry of pain and pleasure brought him roaring to a climax, pulsing into her as she locked her legs around his waist and came in waves around him. Slick with sweat and trembling, he collapsed onto his forearms, leaning in to kiss her neck, reveling in her warmth and her scent and the glow of starlight on her skin, for all these made her real, and if she was real then he could stop hating himself for watching helpless as she died, leaving her to drift alone among the soulless stars. She looked up at him and smiled, stroked his cheek, and kissed him.

Glancing around, he was relieved to see no sign of EDI, the AI wisely making herself scarce. They still had several hours before the morning shift would begin, when the crew would awaken in their sleeping pods and come to take their positions behind him. He gathered Shepard into his arms, settling back into his chair as she nestled into him, cradled in his lap as the stars streamed by. Their ship, their stars, their galaxy, he thought, feeling utterly at peace. They cuddled for as long as they safely could, until reluctantly he dressed and headed back downstairs to shower before the new day started.

Before he left, Shepard brought him close for one last lingering kiss. "We probably shouldn't say anything about this. For the crew's sake."

"You know best, commander." He felt a twinge, but knew she was right.

* * *

Joker awoke with hot water streaming over him, the skin on his shoulders raw and scalded. Too many nights awake at the helm: caffeine, adrenaline, and stress were burning him out. His muscles ached and his head pounded as he tried to make sense of the night. He glanced at the clock: he was late for the morning shift. Confused but exhilarated, he dried off and readied himself for the day. He'd either had the best dream of his life, or… he didn't even dare to think about it. He'd have to wait, bide his time until he had the opportunity to be alone with Shepard again.

* * *

Shepard soared through the galaxy, weightless and frictionless in her gleaming starship's body. Slowly, she disengaged from the interface and was returned to her organic self. She sat cross-legged in Joker's chair, the pilot nowhere to be seen. He must have disappeared to finally get some well-deserved rest. Her skin glistened with sweat, a throbbing ache deep within her. _Whoa._ Flying the ship was better than… well, she hadn't felt this good in a very long time. She was ecstatic, basking in the glow of her adventure. She'd have to beg Joker to let her pilot the Normandy again as soon as the chance arose.

Behind her, EDI chimed in from her perch, her voice unusually cheerful as she asked Shepard whether she'd enjoyed her time at the helm.


	2. Joker Gets the Grrl

**Okay, so the first part wasn't **_**really**_** Shoker. I loved the idea of EDI's meddling inadvertently bringing them together, so...**

* * *

"Goddammit Shepard, move your ass!" Joker's assault rifle blasted away at the massive swarms of Collectors as the commander burst out of the depths of the disintegrating base. Icy hands gripped his innards as he watched her soar through the air, leaping across the expanding chasm separating her from the shuttle. She wasn't going to make it, she was going to die right here and there wasn't a fucking thing he could do about it. Screaming in rage and agony, he reloaded and kept firing again and again, blacking out until she grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him until at last he realized that it was over, Shepard was safe and against all odds everyone had made it out alive.

* * *

Ever since that night in the cockpit, Joker had been hoping for a sign from Shepard that what happened between them was real, that he wasn't the victim of lust-fueled delirium. She still visited him regularly, shooting the breeze and passing time, but her demeanor was friendly and professional, and her clothes definitely stayed on. Not that he could even look at her without picturing her naked, head thrown back as she begged him to take her harder. If she was trying to be discreet she was doing one hell of a job. EDI informed him that she'd dismantled the security cameras in her quarters. There went _that_ guilty pleasure.

Joker tried to resign himself to forever being her friend and subordinate, but couldn't stop himself from wanting more. He wasn't her usual type, couldn't be farther from it really. Shepard's modus operandi was detailed in Cerberus' confidential files: every once in a while, she'd disappear while on shore leave with someone tall, gorgeous, and built like a krogan. Occasionally she'd break from her usual habits: there was suspicion she played for the other team, so to speak, and even speculation about her relations with the asari consort on the Presidium. Shepard's trysts never lasted for more than a few hours: there was no mention of anything more serious. Poor Kaidan had tried hard enough, but rumour had it she'd turned him down flat, saying he should go find himself a nice girl. Shepard was many things, but she was definitely not _nice_, not sweet and hesitant like the woman in his dream. It didn't matter: he far preferred the real-life Shepard to the airbrushed version from his demented fantasy.

Once safely docked on the Citadel, the crew had been given some much-needed shore leave while the Normandy was repaired. Shepard and some of her teammates ended up at Chora's Den, drinking away their stress and blowing off steam. Since Fist's abrupt departure, the new owners had elevated the club from its seedy roots into a much classier den of iniquity. Several rounds of drinks left Shepard feeling warm and disinhibited, relaxing next to Joker in one of the private booths. From the way her eyes kept scanning the dance floor's occupants, he was pretty sure she was looking for other means of relieving her tension.

"I never really thanked you for all those times you pulled my ass out of the fire, Joker. You're my knight in shining armour, except, you know, with a starship." She laughed, clapping her hands in delight. "I should buy you a lap dance!"

"Sorry, commander. I'm not really into asari." An interesting proposition, but not what he had in mind.

"Don't be silly. Everyone's into asari."

"I prefer my company a little closer to home."

"You're too sweet. You should find yourself a nice girl." There it was, the kiss of death. He was blowing it, and he might never get another chance.

He straightened his posture and crossed his arms, ignoring the pain and putting on an air of confidence as he grinned slyly. "Maybe I don't want a nice girl."

One eyebrow shot up: she clearly wasn't expecting his response. "I'm not so sure you could handle me, flyboy. Unless a broken arm is your idea of foreplay."

Ouch. That was low. Realizing what she'd just said, Shepard leaned in to explain herself, putting her hand gently on his forearm. "You're too important to me, Jeff. No one else could fly the Normandy like you. Hurting you is not what I had in mind tonight."

Jeff. She called him Jeff. He didn't let himself flinch when she mentioned his frailty. Showing weakness now would be the worst thing he could do.

"A lot changed in two years, Shepard. Cerberus gave me a lot of… enhancements." Cybernetics, heavy bone weave: they'd even rewired his neural pathways to treat his chronic pain. If not for the limp, his disability would be nearly invisible.

"Really?" Her interest was piqued, but she kept her distance. "I make it a policy never to get involved with my crew. Things would get awkward. I'm not the kind of girl who sticks around to cuddle." The thought of the ferocious commander cuddling with anyone would have seemed absurd, if not for the vivid memory of her skin pressed against his, the warm softness of her curled into him, savouring every minute until morning forced them apart.

He laughed, keeping his cool. To get through to her he had to keep up, match her blow for blow. "At least you could let me buy _you_ a lap dance."

"Now you're talking, soldier."

He beckoned over the asari dancer nearest them, her hips swaying as she made her way to their table. She seemed positively delighted to be dancing for Shepard, her body writhing seductively against her to the beat of the pounding club music. If nothing else, this moment alone would be enough to keep Joker warm at night for a very long time. The asari giggled as she glanced at him, then whispered something in Shepard's ear that made her smile wickedly and nod in assent. He could scarcely believe his eyes when the two began to kiss, mouths open and definitely using their tongues. Nope, he wasn't going to be able to stand up to buy another round of drinks.

Just when he thought he couldn't possibly be more aroused, Shepard looked straight at him and grinned. "Thanks for the present." She had to be testing him, gauging his reaction to her display, or maybe she was messing with him. Hell, maybe she just wanted the asari.

"Thanks for the visual. I'll have to write this up for next month's Fornax."

Shepard shot him a look of mock offence, and was promptly redirected by the dancer, irked that she wasn't being paid enough attention. The commander patted her ass affectionately and thanked her for the dance.

"Maybe I'll see you later?"

"Maybe. We'll see. So, how about another round? Cerberus is picking up the tab, even though they don't know it yet." Shepard was all too happy to add insult to injury now that she'd told off the Illusive Man and blown up the Collector base. As if on cue, Kelly sauntered over carrying a tray of purple shots. He had no idea what they were, but they tasted like cold fire and made his brain tingle. Shepard seemed to be experiencing similar effects: her posture grew more relaxed, and she was absentmindedly twirling her hair as she swayed to the beat of the music.

"I need to dance."

"You're on your own there, Shepard. Cerberus forgot my rhythm implant. Looks like Kelly wants to take you for a spin, though."

"Sweet girl. _Definitely_ not my type." Lithe and agile despite the ethanol in her bloodstream, Shepard let herself be carried away by the entrancing melody, dancing around the other clubgoers but not staying with any one partner. She managed to put on quite a show, catching many an appreciative eye. The music was hypnotic but somewhat repetitive, and she soon tired of the dance floor and returned to Joker's table.

"So, tell me something I don't know about you, Jeff Moreau."

_I dreamt we made love on the bridge and I can't stop thinking about you._ "You remember that salarian fighter jet the Alliance recovered a few years ago, that no one could figure out how to fly?"

"The Aerix-9. There was a contest, wasn't there? The Alliance Navy said that whoever could master the controls would get their pick of assignments. No one ever claimed that prize." Salarian craft were built to accommodate their superhuman reflexes and dexterity: their fighter squadrons were legendary and unparalleled.

"That's not exactly true, commander. No one _publicly_ claimed the prize. The Alliance didn't want the salarians to know we could keep up with them."

"You mean _you_…"

Joker just smiled. "How do you think I ended up piloting the Normandy? Let's just say there's nothing in the galaxy I can't handle." It was a big risk bragging about that particular exploit: the Alliance was a little touchy about their military secrets. The impressed look on Shepard's face made it all worthwhile. "Your turn. Better make it good, I could be court-martialed for what I just told you."

"You're safe. We're not Alliance anymore, remember?" She paused for a moment, her mind lost in careful analysis. Whatever conclusion she might have come to she elected not to share. "Secrets, huh? It's too crowded for me to tell you here. Follow me."

Leading him out of Chora's Den and into a secluded alleyway, Shepard ducked behind some haphazardly strewn crates. "I'm not sure about this yet. Mmm… that's better." She'd swiped his lucky hat and tossed it into the corner.

"Hey!"

"Shhh." Before he could lodge further protest, her fingers were running through his hair and her lips were on his, sweet and heady from the lingering alcohol.

She whispered into his ear: "I might be willing to make an exception to my rule, as long as there are no hurt feelings later."

"Why are we still standing here?"

* * *

Shepard was apprehensive about returning to the Normandy until Joker showed her how to turn off EDI's surveillance. Something about the AI made the commander uneasy: she hated the feeling of constantly being watched, and the syrupy sweet tone EDI had been using with her lately was creeping her out. It was a reckless move bringing Joker back here to her quarters: she'd never invited anyone into to her own personal space before, and certainly never fooled around with a member of her crew. There was something decidedly different about her pilot. She used to think his confident swagger and endless jokes were just a cover for his underlying insecurities, but he'd proven himself time and time again, living up to his outrageous boasts. He really was the best damn pilot in the galaxy, and the way he was looking at her tonight, so arrogant and cocksure, he managed to piss her off and turn her on at the same time. Bastard. She'd show him, and if she enjoyed herself along the way so much the better.

Straddling him on her couch, they kissed deeply, her lips stinging slightly from his whiskers. _Damn, he's good at this, _she thought. _It's a shame I have to crush his pride so soon._ She slipped off her tunic to reveal her new silken bra, the fine asari craftsmanship showcasing her assets beautifully. Feeling him growing hard against her belly, she reached down to caress his length through his clothing. He was surprisingly well-endowed: only her stubbornness held her to her wicked plan. Finding a rhythm, she timed her strokes to his insistent moans, tongue tracing circles around his earlobe. He wouldn't last one more minute, and then she'd gloat and tell him matter-of-factly that pilot extraordinaire or not, he couldn't handle _her._

Smugly pleased with herself, she was taken by surprise when she felt a sudden rush of cool air: he'd reached around to unfasten her clasp, deftly removing her bra. She lost her concentration: his tongue was doing something maddening to her nipple, sending electric shocks through her body. She struggled to regain control of the situation, but her efforts were sharply interrupted by a tiny bite on her delicate flesh.

"Not so fast. You're getting ahead of yourself, little Spectre." _Little Spectre?_ Nothing infuriated her more than being condescended to. She glared a warning, the fire in her eyes declaring she was moments away from letting loose a close range warp field. Joker didn't even bother to look up, focusing his attention on her other breast with the same rapt intensity. Shepard was furious, but his mouth felt unbelievably good, lust overriding her anger. His arms felt strong around her, a striking change from the frail body he once had. This couldn't possibly be the same man she'd known: he'd always been tougher than his appearance let on, but there was substance to his swagger, his confidence hardened by battle and loss.

"This'll be a lot harder if you keep your pants on, commander."

"What about you?"

"No need to rush. I'm just getting started." Again with the machismo, again he was trying to gain the upper hand. Still, she was curious as to what else he might be planning with his dexterous hands. It couldn't hurt to give him a chance, put him to the test before she had her way with him.

Shepard stood before him, stripping off her remaining clothing to stand fully naked, her hair flowing in soft curls around her shoulders. Expecting shock and awe, she was bothered by his expression of smug appreciation. He seemed pleased, but his reaction implied she was nothing he hadn't seen before. _Right_… the bastard had been spying on her until she ripped out the surveillance cameras. Crossing her arms, she glared defiantly as though unperturbed by her state of undress. "Alright flyboy, impress me."

Joker laughed, taking her by the hand to lead her over to the bed, protesting when she reached around to relieve him of his shirt. His body was decorated with scars, remnants of chest tubes after broken ribs and surgeries to correct his spinal alignment. Shepard ran her fingertips along his torso, following the curve of a thoracotomy. "You look like a soldier," she said, sitting on the edge of the bed to plant kisses on his chest and abdomen. It wasn't like her to be tender, but she wanted him to be comfortable, remembering how self-conscious she'd been of her own scars before they healed. She _needed_ this, she realized. Ever since taking command of the Normandy, she hadn't allowed herself the luxury of a lover: fame and notoriety preceded her everywhere. Two Reapers had gone down in flames, she'd died and been resurrected, countless pressures and stresses weighed on her and she had no one but herself to ease the tension. For all his frustrating arrogance, Jeff's skill was impressive, and he just might be able to give her what she needed.

He didn't disappoint. Working her with his tongue and fingers, he brought her to a swift and powerful climax. It was as though he already knew her body, hitting every sweet spot, manipulating her effortlessly until she cried out despite herself. Round one went to him, she silently conceded, floating down from her sublime high. Time to even the score.

"Have you ever been with a biotic, Jeff?"

"Can't say that I have. Not unless you count that time Wrex put me in a headlock."

"Do you understand what we're capable of?" She gave him a distinctly predatory look, a tigress eyeing her victim.

"Uh… you're not going to go all Morinth on me, are you? Not that it wouldn't be an awesome way to go, but the open casket would be embarrassing."

"Don't worry. Only your sanity's in danger, not your life." He probably thought she was joking. "If you can't take it, just tell me to stop."

He crossed his arms, incredulous. "Alright, commander, impress me."

Human skin had remarkable properties. The lightest touch could elicit the most exquisite effects, and the range of possible sensations was staggering. Add biotics, and a single touch could be made to feel like hundreds, or amplified to any intensity. Anatomy and physiology were essential to any biotic soldier's education, and Shepard made the most of her considerable expertise.

She started slowly, lying atop him and thanking him for his efforts with long sultry kisses, her arousal mingling with the sweetness of his breath. Giving him a taste of her biotics, she used her lips to tease his neck and jawline, his skin tingling from her kiss. He strained against her, moaning and bucking his hips involuntarily, but she was having none of it. Gradually, she worked her way down his body, lingering on each sensitive area along the way, sending low-frequency pulses of energy through his muscles to massage and relax them. The overall effect was to soothe and arouse him simultaneously, draining all tension and focusing his complete attention on her touch. Removing his clothing, she withdrew for a moment to admire his body, the sudden absence of stimulation priming him for her next move.

Starting with the faintest touch, the tip of her tongue tracing his length, she teased him into a frenzy before taking him into her mouth. Feeling him nearing release, she used biotic energy to upset the delicate balance of his sympathetic nervous system, doing nothing to tame his arousal but preventing him from reaching a climax. He belonged to her now, for as long as she wanted, and merciless though she was, Shepard knew the longer he lasted the greater his eventual bliss would be. And she needed him. And he was hers.

Shepard continued to her heart's delight, enjoying him, devouring him. To her surprise, he didn't beg her to stop, refusing even to cry out. His breath was measured, as though lost in meditation. Impressed by his resilience, her respect for him grew: he was far stronger than she gave him credit for.

"Jeff… you don't have to prove anything to me. I can go easy on you if you need me to."

"Hell no." He barely managed a whisper, but his tone was defiant.

Poised above him, struggling to keep control but desperately craving satisfaction, the sensation of his cock hard against her was unbearable. She impaled herself on him, making no effort to stifle her moans. He fit her perfectly, hitting her g-spot with each delicious thrust. _Oh. Fuck. Yes._ Jeff grabbed her hips, arching his back to match her pace, driving himself deeper. Her body was aglow, every nerve firing in response to his insistent presence, heat growing within her to a fiery blaze. Lightning coursed through her as she reached her climax, releasing her biotic hold on her lover and triggering a massive rush of endorphins to overload his senses. The ship melted away and there was only her, only him, and they too vanished into all-consuming bliss.

* * *

Joker was drowning and he didn't care. Three decades of living in constant pain had shifted his threshold of tolerance far beyond most humans, but Shepard's witchcraft was beyond anything he'd ever known. His pain was gone: he felt reborn, purified. She'd pushed him to his limits, but he refused to give in: Shepard had finally met her match. If only he could remember how to breathe. He brushed aside the strands of her hair covering his face, affectionately stroking the goddess collapsed atop him.

"Holy shit, commander."

"Commander?" Her dreamy gaze hardened at the mention of her rank, and she quickly climbed out of bed. "I have to go… do stuff." Right. Not the cuddly type.

"Kiera." _That_ got her attention. "I get it, you're a cold-hearted bitch who grew up on the streets. You keep everyone at arm's length. I'm a jackass who put my reputation and my career above everything else. You've probably never been on a second date. Neither have I."

She eyed him warily, unsure of where he was going with this.

"Don't think I was too far gone to hear you screaming my name. I'm willing to bet you've never met anyone strong enough to handle you. If you _ever_ want to do this again, bring your gorgeous ass back over here. Otherwise, it's been fun and I'll see you on the bridge." _By the way, I think I'm in love with you._

It took all his resolve to hold her gaze, giving her his best rakish grin as he watched her contemplate her next move. When she bit her lip, he knew he had her hooked.

"You're not going to get all emotional on me, are you?"

"Wouldn't dream of it. I just need a minute to recharge: I'm not even close to being finished with you."

Shepard returned, swaying her hips seductively as she approached. She curled up against him, fitting the contours of her body into his, resting her head on his shoulder and nuzzling his neck. Sweet God, she tasted like honey and cardamom, smelled like sex and cherry blossoms. Before long, every night they weren't in transit he was spending in her quarters. The crew must have noticed, but none dared to mention it in front of her. Months passed before she admitted she loved him, blurting it out at the height of her ecstasy, stars streaming by as they made love in the cockpit.

"I know." Her expression was priceless. "Lucky for you, I love you too."


End file.
